


Of Flowers and Flour

by lost_stickie_note



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Flowers, Fluff, Happy 25th Birthday Zhangjing, M/M, Quirks, Zhangjun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-20 12:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20675222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/lost_stickie_note
Summary: Yanjun just wants to know that it isn't Zhengting playing some big cosmic joke on him.#Zhangjun #Happy25thBirthdayZhangjing





	Of Flowers and Flour

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 25th Birthday, You Zhangjing! To my cutest bias ♡ Just a bunch of fluff for everyone to read ^^ Enjoy!
> 
> Big shoutout + thanks to my favorite prompt-generator-in-arms, bratty baby ares, who holds a piece of my ♡ and generated the prompt that inspired this fic: [@baobaotwt](https://twitter.com/baobaotwt)
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.

Another patch of green pops up next to him, the limp and withering leaves of the tread upon flowers planted along the brick walkway turning back into a vibrant shade of green, the small pops of bright yellow growing bigger and taller on climbing stalks into full-blown sunflowers, as Yanjun passes by, garnering quite a few furtive looks from other students, one girl not hesitating to outright point at him. Yanjun blushes scarlet with embarrassment, not able to hide when the sunflowers sprouted so suddenly, and nearly two feet tall already. He’s not quite sure why everything around him has been growing for the past week. After all, his quirk has nothing to do with it, or at least, he doesn’t think so as it would be far more likely the flowers would have been burned to a crisp rather than bloomed so nicely. Especially since it’s the dead set in the middle of winter, the snow on the ground at least five inches deep, covering all the roofs of their school building and dormitories.

_No wonder everyone is staring._

There’s really no good explanation for it. _Well, unless Zhengting is playing a prank on me. _The thought turns his mood sour, though he wouldn’t put it past his best friend. Zhengting is the only one to have the life quirk at the school, or at least he thought so, the quirk being quite rare. Only 1 in every 500,000 people with quirks ends up getting it, the other elemental quirks, fire, water, earth, and air being far more common. The rarity of the quirk makes his best friend popular in addition to special, people flocking to him like moths to a flame, a quality that Yanjun has come to regret after sharing a room with the other boy.

**Yanjun**

Zhengting, are you the one making everything grow?

Around me, I mean.

**Zhengting**

??? Wdym

I’m busy, Yanjun.

Ttyl at meeting.

Yanjun stares at the response, slightly puzzled. There’s really no one else he can think of that would be able to pull this off, from the flowery vines uncontrollably growing and crawling up the school’s greenhouse walls to the millions of tiny daisies popping up next to the bench he’s sitting on while studying. It’s not that he minds terribly that flowers bloom wherever he is, in fact, he rather likes the colors, especially as it’s been a long winter. But each time, he needs to duck his head, trying to shy away from the stares around him, all somehow expecting him as the actual _force _behind the phenomenon.

Unfortunately, he is just as confused as everyone else.

Yanjun sighs, shifting from one foot to another, realizing that Dinghao is late, the locked door to the storage room staring back at him, unyielding. _Whoever decided that this room could only be accessed from outside should be shot. _He huffs into his bare hands, trying to keep the warmth, ruing his forgetfulness, his winter gloves probably still lying on his bedside table, and it is with regret that he reaches and fumbles around in his pants pockets, taking out the matchbook of matches. His teeth chatter as his fingers struggles to light one, needing to strike it a few times before the tiny flame appears. And Yanjun breathes in deeply, focusing his energy and rubbing the air around the match like a crystal ball until it grows bigger, about the size of a baseball, big enough for him to hold it in his hands, the little ball of fire floating in his palms, warming them.

He wishes Dinghao would hurry up already before he freezes his ass off waiting in the cold. Yanjun curses when he spots the other boy, only half rushing to where Yanjun is waiting, looking absolutely nice and cozy in a thick downy jacket, snow pants, winter boots, and a matching set of earmuffs and mittens. “You could have gotten here faster, idiot.” Yanjun grumbles at Dinghao who pays him no mind, fixated instead on unlocking the door. “Or maybe we should have petitioned to get a storage space that isn’t in the worst possible place on campus.” He pauses. “I mean, you would think that the _student council_ would get some perks.”

Dinghao shrugs. “You can take it up with Zhengting. But there were so many clubs this year after we added four new ones that we were struggling to find space, remember? It was already tight last year when we had only forty-eight. And you know him, he’s not going to take up space that could be given to someone else.”

_Ugh._

Yanjun knows the other boy is right, and that attitude is precisely why Zhengting is their student council president, somehow managing to be fair to everyone under every circumstance. “Why does Zhengting want the whiteboard anyways?”

Dinghao looks at him with an incredulous expression. “As if I should know. If anyone would, it’s you. You’re the one that rooms with him.”

He sighs. Yanjun wishes it were true. They are roommates and close for sure, but recently Zhengting has been hanging around with others instead, his classes taking up a lot of his time, as well as the mentoring group he had initiated, pairing up older students with younger ones, the middle school connected directly to their building. To show his dedication, he had signed on to mentor a student himself, and it is with great annoyance that Yanjun has to hear about how exhausting Justin is on Thursdays, like clockwork, the other boy returning home just to completely pass out on his bed. “I’m not sure. Maybe he wants to plan something?”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t he just hook his laptop up to the projector?”

Turns out, they are half-right.

Yanjun glances dubiously at the six chairs, squeezed unceremoniously into the tiny room, barely enough space to maneuver around and actually sit down. Dinghao’s thoughts are not as silent, the gasp of outrage clearly audible in the small room. “What are we doing here? What happened to our normal meeting room?”

Zhengting is already sitting at the head of the table, first to arrive as usual, carefully flipping through a stack of papers. “Take a seat Dinghao. I’m glad you’re not late today, though I guess that has something to do with Yanjun being on time rather than yourself.” The other boy looks up briefly. “Another club needed a room with a projector today, so we’re in here for the time being.”

“Ridiculous.” Dinghao bends his body deftly to make his way towards the opposite end of the table, which Yanjun admits, doesn’t exactly put much distance between the other boy and Zhengting. “Why are we always giving things up?”

“Because we’re the student council, and we should.” Yanjun squeezes into the seat next to Dinghao, shaking his head with exasperation. “Just give it a rest, Dinghao. Zhengting has more important things to worry about than whether you can keep yourself in your seat for the next hour.”

Wenjun is the next to arrive, immediately taking his place to Zhengting’s right, his tall frame barely managing to fit into the space. Chaoze and Ziyi show up a few minutes apart, with Ziyi carrying their meeting snacks for today. Yanjun scrunches his nose. Ziyi always went with healthy options when it is his turn, the assortment of carrots and celery with some dipping dressing almost appealing to him today, his stomach clearly feeling the effects of skipping lunch.

“Thank you for grabbing the whiteboard, Yanjun and Dinghao.” Zhengting taps the marker, writing the words _Fundraiser _in huge letters across the top of the board. “So today we need to discuss what we should do for our fundraiser so that we can get funds to sponsor the school dance next semester. Any thoughts?”

As expected, nobody volunteers.

Zhengting sighs. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

“How about a date auction?” Chaoze pipes up. “That could be really fun, and I have someone I want to contribute.”

“Why are you talking about him as if he’s an object?” Dinghao interjects, glaring at the other boy. “That’s so rude.”

“You trying to call someone out for being rude is _rude_.” Chaoze shoots back, rolling his eyes for good measure. “And he’s my best friend, and I want is for him to go on a date with someone soon. Before he ends up alone forever as the guy with seven pets instead of a boyfriend.”

“What’s wrong with having seven pets?” Zhengting responds, miffed. “Dogs and cats are much cuter than people.”

“Nevermind.” Chaoze huffs. “You asked for ideas, so I gave one.”

“How about a car wash?” Dinghao suggests, the suggestion gradually dying on his lips as the rest of the room looks back at him incredulously.

“…you do know that most of our students live in the dorms, right?” Yanjun says slowly. “No one has a car.”

“How about a bake sale?” The soft suggestion comes from Wenjun, and Yanjun can see Zhengting immediately perk up, turning to the other boy with a smitten look on his face, one that Yanjun doesn’t think has disappeared since the two of them had started dating a month and a half ago. And it’s not as if Yanjun is jealous, truly, he’s happy for Zhengting, but he wishes he had his best friend back, Wenjun occupying all of Zhengting’s time recently. _Or at least have someone who looks at me like Zhengting looks at Wenjun._

“That sounds like a great idea!” Zhengting chirps, writing the words _Bake Sale _underneath the word _Fundraiser_, proceeding to dish out assignments for them to work on over the next few days, the proposed day of baking one week from today. Yanjun zones out as Zhengting talks, looking out the window instead, snow starting to fall again, a light dusting coming down, thinking about the flowers that have been sprouting at his feet recently, wondering if there is a logical explanation.

“Yanjun?” Ziyi shakes his arm to get his attention. “We’re done already. You’re responsible for advertising the event.” Yanjun turns his head to see Zhengting glaring angrily at him, his brows knit together and almost touching in the middle.

“So, Yanjun, our student council _secretary_. Did you get all of that down?” He gulps, not even bothering to defend himself. “Come on, Yanjun. You were supposed to be taking meeting minutes.” Zhengting lets out a deep sigh. “Nevermind, we’re all set here, so let’s just wrap-up and go home.”

Yanjun inwardly curses, Wenjun’s soft hand on Zhengting’s shoulder, clearly trying to calm the other boy down, which only works slightly, the glare coming off his roommate’s face at least. The rest of the boys start walking out of the room, slipping away, clearly feeling the tension as Zhengting angrily packs up his things, the hunched shoulders giving away his anger. Wenjun whispers something to Zhengting and gives him a peck on his cheek before leaving.

“I’m really sorry, Zhengting.” Yanjun tries to extend a peace offering apology. “I’ve just been distracted by this whole flowers thing. It happened again today, and I really thought it was _you _doing it maybe, but you said it wasn’t so…”

“It isn’t me.” The color rises back into Zhengting’s face. “You could have at least made an effort to pay attention.”

Yanjun is left alone in the room as the other boy storms out.

_Great._

The trudge back to their dorm feels long, the shadow of Zhengting’s anger still clinging to him, weighing on his thoughts and making his feet drag heavily. He didn’t mean to make Zhengting angry, the thought of sprouting flowers distracting him more than he cares to admit. _I’ll get him an apology. _The sudden shout startles him, and looking up, he sees the exodus of students streaming out of the library, the doors thrown wide open. It’s closing time, and Yanjun makes sure to sidestep to get out of everyone’s way, half the students heading in the opposite direction as he is.

And he’s just about to pass the huge group when it happens again. This time it’s tulips, the purple-pinkish buds sprouting from the ground near his feet, the leaves on the flowers spreading widely in a dark rich green, a sight to behold, the whispers in his direction growing steadily. Yanjun sighs, resigned to his fate by now, not bothering to even look around and try to deny it, letting the flowers continue to shoot up around him. _Zhengting likes flowers. _He bends down to pick a few, wondering whether or not the tulips would react to him touching them at all, but nothing seems to happen when he does, so he starts gathering them, attempting to organize enough to form a bouquet of apology for his roommate.

Yanjun leaves the 25 tulips on their kitchen counter, along with a note.

“I’m sorry.”

\---

Zhangjing stares out the window as the teacher continues to drone on and on, tuning out the sound of an explanation being given on the previous night’s homework, an assignment that he had greatly struggled with. He _should _be paying attention, but his mind is on other things, his gaze instead focusing on the falling snow outside. He isn’t a huge fan of winter, much preferring spring instead, watching for the trees to turn green again with lush leaves, the flowers to start blooming and covering the ground in an array of colors. There are a bunch of students walking around outside, the ones who don’t currently have class, and for the seventh time in the past hour, Zhangjing wishes he were one of them.

The flash of red catches his eye, a dusky and darkish color that brightens as the sun hits the top of the boy’s head. He recognizes the boy, having first seen him about a week ago in passing, nearly crashing into him as he was rushing out of the library. He had mumbled a quick apology before speeding away, struck nearly speechless by the handsomeness of the other boy. The boy is easy to pick out in a crowd, not many of the students having that shade of red, possibly the only one. And it seems like the universe wants to play a joke on him thereafter, making the other pop up in his view wherever he’s gone for the past week.

Honestly, the sight is rather amusing.

Because each time he’s seen this other boy, it’s accompanied by the blooming of flowers, springtime flowers sprouting up around him to his obvious chagrin, the other students stopping to stare. And Zhangjing is no exception, always pausing to watch the assortment of leaves, vines, and blossoms seemingly gravitate towards the other boy as if he is some sort of nymph. The sight makes the other boy appear even more otherworldly, his looks too good to be true, and each time he sees him, Zhangjing’s chest swells with awe, a fluttering rising up.

So maybe he has a little crush, not that he wants to admit it.

It happens again today, the sunflowers sprouting up to their full heights, almost dwarfing the boy, the multitude of people around him pointing, the scene slightly absurd with the flowers popping up from the snow. And for the first time, Zhangjing wonders who could be making it happen, not many of the students at their school having a quirk in general, maybe about a third of the student body, and certainly not many with the ability to make things grow. In fact, Zhangjing can only think of one person with the life quirk, Zhu Zhengting, their student council class president. And it doesn’t seem like the president is anywhere nearby whenever Zhangjing sees this other boy. _Maybe a secret quirk user? _Zhangjing snorts with amusement to himself. Fat chance. It would be next to impossible to hide a quirk, not to mention one so rare.

“Zhangjing!” He snaps to attention as the teacher calls out his name, an unamused expression on her face, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Are you paying attention? Please come up to the board and complete the problem. _Now _preferably.”

He can feel his cheeks burning as he scurries up to the front, everyone turning to stare as he attempts to fumble his way through the problem. He’s about halfway through trying to solve it when the bell goes off, signaling the end of the class, and Zhangjing immediately drops the piece of chalk and starts to pack up his things. _Maybe miracles do exist. _It’s his last class of the day and not an acapella group practice day so he makes his way to the library, the thought of the next five hours spent attempting to work on the essay he’s been avoiding making his head hurt. The vibration in his pocket makes him dig out his phone, the text notification from Chaoze flashing on the screen.

**Chaoze**

Can you make me dinner?

Or grab me some from the cafeteria?

**Zhangjing**

Make your own food.

>< 

**Chaoze**

Can’t.

Student council meeting.

And you know Zhengting always runs us late.

**Zhangjing**

Fine, but you owe me.

**Chaoze**

Seriously?

You’re supposed to be my FRIEND.

**Zhangjing**

I’m your friend, not your MOM.

**Chaoze**

Fine. Hotpot on Saturday.

…I’ll pay.

**Zhangjing**

That’s more like it.

Zhangjing makes a beeline towards the cafeteria instead, the thought of what to buy Chaoze for dinner making him hungry as well, his stomach throwing up a discontent growl. He quickly grabs a burger for Chaoze, digging out his card to pay, a side of fries for himself to snack on before heading back to their dorm room to throw the food into the fridge. _There, dinner is served. _Zhangjing groans as he looks at his phone, the time looking back at him accusingly. _Still, maybe another hour or two before the library closes. _With regret, he heads back towards the school, leaving the warmth and comfort of their dorm, bundled in another extra layer, a sweater thrown over his clothes as the forecast said the temperature would be dropping again.

Twenty minutes later, and he can already feel the headache coming on as he stares down at his half-written essay, biting his lower lip in despair. He’s not even sure what he’s written so far is acceptable, re-reading the last three sentences over and over but still not making any sense of his supposed persuasive argument. His thoughts are interrupted another message from Chaoze appears.

**Chaoze**

I think we might be doing a bake sale.

After Dinghao suggested something and utterly stupid.

**Zhangjing**

???

Do any of you even know how to bake?

**Chaoze**

…no.

**Zhangjing**

???

HAHAHAHAHA

**Chaoze**

…but you do.

Zhangjing stares at his phone in disbelief, hoping his best friend and roommate isn’t suggesting what he thinks he’s suggesting. The three dots of doom are coming up on his screen, the other boy clearly typing something. A pause. Then the dots appear again. _Yeah, you better not say what I think you’re about to say._

**Chaoze**

I _may _have volunteered your services.

When we were talking.

…

It’s only one afternoon, Zhangjing.

Please.

I’m begging you.

It’s just me and Dinghao assigned to baking.

Don’t leave me alone.

Please.

Zhangjing?

ZHANGJING??

**Zhangjing**

I seriously hate you.

**Chaoze**

I’ll treat you to two hotpot meals.

**Zhangjing**

…

……

**Chaoze**

OKAY FINE, THREE.

JUST DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH DINGHAO.

Zhangjing sighs, rubbing his temples to ward off the headache, Chaoze’s messages only making it worse. Just the thought of having to spend an afternoon with Dinghao, who Chaoze constantly describes only as _loud _is making any chance of him completing more work impossible. He spends the next hour just looking through social media. _Wait. _Their school Instagram had posted recently, and Zhangjing swears…yes, the same red-headed boy, standing next to student council president Zhengting in a photo, as well as Chaoze, and a few other people he doesn’t recognize. The photo is captioned ‘New student council profile pic!’ and Zhangjing hurriedly reads the tags.

Yanjun, student council secretary.

A jolt runs through him, an odd feeling, finally knowing the name of the boy he has been seeing everywhere the last week. Finally being able to put a name to the face. He wonders if Yanjun will also be working on the bake sale project, and the fleeting thought gives him a small burst of happiness. _Maybe helping Chaoze won’t be so bad after all._ Buoyed by the thought, he begins stuffing all his things back into his backpack, spotting the librarian out of the corner of his eye, motioning for people to leave for closing time.

Oh crap, the essay.

His stomach sinks thinking about it, his mind not fully paying attention, but it doesn’t stop him from seeing the flash of red, almost unconsciously drawn towards the color by now, Yanjun appearing in view, striding towards him, closer and closer. The other boy looks troubled this time, and the worry creeps into Zhangjing’s mind, though he’s not sure why. He barely knows this other boy, but as he turns his head to look behind him after Yanjun passes, as if right on cue, the flowers appear, purple tulips surrounding him, stopping him in his tracks. Zhangjing tries not to stare, though clearly everyone else has no such reservations, and he just wishes he could magic away the people that are being outright _rude_. He watches as the other boy stoops down and starts picking the flowers, gathering a bunch in his arms.

As Yanjun walks away, Zhangjing wonders who they’re for.

Chaoze is munching on the burger when he gets back, busily stuffing fries into his mouth at the same time, and Zhangjing cries out in outrage. “Hey, the fries were supposed to be for me.”

“Too slow, too bad.” Chaoze lets out a burp. “I was starving, thanks for this. And by the way, you _have _to help me with baking. There’s absolutely no way that I’ll survive being in the kitchen alone with Dinghao.”

Zhangjing ignores his roommate, instead choosing to switch the subject. “Do you know a boy named Yanjun? I think he’s on the student council with you.”

His best friend nods. “Yeah, of course. Our lazy secretary. I swear Zhengting was about to murder him today.” He pauses. “Wait, why do you ask?” The potential realization dawns on his face, the excitement lighting up his eyes. “Wait, wait, wait, are you _interested_ in him?”

“NO.” Zhangjing half-screams his protest, causing Chaoze to burst out into a raucous laughter.

“Methinks the lady doth protests too much.” His friend grins at him, waving his finger in the air triumphantly.

“Well, this _lady _is about to not help his best friend.”

Chaoze’s face visibly blanches.

_Ha, who’s laughing now?_

A week later and Zhangjing is letting his best friend drag him to the school’s communal kitchen in what he assumes will be a few hours of pure and utter torture. “Why do I have to come?” He grumbles, Chaoze keeping a tight grip on his wrist, presumably so that he can’t take the first opportunity to escape. “This is your club activity, not mine.”

“Because I swear to god, if I end up killing Dinghao, then you’re going to have to be my alibi, so you might as well be my accomplice too.”

“If you were a good friend, you wouldn’t involve me in your potential-soon-to-be crimes.”

“If _you _were a good friend, you’d help me bury the body.”

“I’m a _great_ friend, and I would definitely rat you out to the police so you could serve your time like the upstanding citizen I am.”

Zhangjing is still laughing at Chaoze’s grim expression as they walk into the kitchen, but the sight of _Yanjun _standing in the room shuts him up really quick. Now it’s Chaoze’s turn to look at him with a mocking expression, clearly enjoying watching Zhangjing squirm under pressure. He shoots his friend a glare, who only mouths back at him _go get him_, which only deepens Zhangjing’s frown. “Hi, you must be Zhangjing.”

The other boy is smiling at him, extending a hand out for him to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Chaoze. I’m Yanjun.”

He hopes he’s not blushing as he shakes the other boy’s hands, though he has a sneaking suspicion that at the very least the tips of his ears are turning red judging from Chaoze’s absolutely delighted expression from behind Yanjun. “Yeah, that would be me.” He replies weakly, not knowing what else to say while being tongue-tied. The only thing he can think of is _oh, I know who you are because I stare at you creepily from the window during math class. _But hey, it’s not like he can say _that _out loud.

“And _I’m _Dinghao.” His attention is completely broken as the last boy in the room shows his way in between him and Yanjun, forcibly tearing his gaze away from the red-haired boy, his hand finally letting go of Yanjun’s. “I’ve also heard a lot about you, and Chaoze said you’re going to help us bake today.” Dinghao looks at him suspiciously. “You don’t exactly _look _like you know how to bake cookies, just eat them maybe.”

This time Zhangjing does feel the flush heating up his cheeks.

_I’m gonna kill him._

If it isn’t so tragic, Zhangjing would have been more offended by the look of unadulterated glee on Chaoze’s face.

An hour and a half later, and Zhangjing feels at peace, the soothing smell of freshly baked cookies filling his nostrils, almost tempering his earlier anger at Chaoze for putting him in this ridiculous position. He sneaks a glance at Yanjun who is busy forcing the cookie cutter into the rolled out dough next to him, taking each one and placing it gently on to the pan. Though Dinghao is chaotic beyond belief, Zhangjing does give him credit for actually listening as he doles out the instructions, with Chaoze immediately dragging Dinghao away to make the dough, forcing Zhangjing to make up the other team of rolling and shaping with Yanjun. The red-haired boy is quiet as he works, not saying much of anything as he methodically creates each cookie. Zhangjing wonders if he should say something, clearly his throat for good effect to catch Yanjun’s attention.

“Uhhh, so how have you been?”

A relatively safe question.

“Oh,” Yanjun looks up at him, startled. “Sorry, were you saying something? I’ve just been sort of distracted.”

“Distracted by what?”

“Just…” Yanjun hesitates a bit before continuing. “I’ve been having these flowers bloom all around me lately, and I don’t know why.” The boy shakes his head. “My quirk has nothing to do with creating life.”

“Oh?” Zhangjing raises an eyebrow, interest perked. “You have a quirk?”

Yanjun briefly smiles at him. “Yeah, fire quirk. Pretty useless as far as daily life goes. I need to carry around a lighter to even make it work half the time.” He shakes his head. “Not strong enough to start instantaneous fires like some other quirk users.”

They fall into a natural conversation, the words seemingly flowing uninterrupted between them for the rest of the time, the pile of baked goods getting bigger and bigger as they talk.

“Done!” Chaoze crows triumphantly the buzzer to the last batch of cookies goes off, the sweet sound of success filling the air. “Finally! Now I can go back to spending my time without you imbeciles.”

Zhangjing laughs at the affronted look on Dinghao’s face.

A knock makes them all turn to face the door, Zhengting’s head popping into view. “Hey, Yanjun texted me saying you guys are almost done.” The other boy’s eyes widen as he sees the baked goods, all heaped on to plates and shrink wrapped for good measure. “Oh, _wow_, you all outdid yourselves. How’d you even manage to pull this off?”

Yanjun gives him a soft smile. “It was all Zhangjing to be honest.”

The compliment makes him blush, his cheeks heating up.

“Well, thank god for Zhangjing, then.” Zhengting gives him a bright smile. “For being our savior.”

Zhengting helps them pack everything up, storing the cookies away as Chaoze and Dinghao take care of the dishes with record speed, with Chaoze manipulating the stream of water from the faucet into a more powerful spray and Dinghao slowly spinning creating little jets of hot air currents to dry the kitchenware. And they are walking out of the building together when it happens, Zhangjing being the first to notice as Zhengting and Yanjun are walking side by side directly in front of him. Suddenly, leafy greens are unfurling from the ground beside the red-haired boy, the patch of daisies, pure white and hardly noticeable against the snowy backdrop, coming to surround Yanjun, and the gasp of surprise comes first from Zhengting’s lips, with Yanjun stopping abruptly and punching the other boy in the arm.

“Zhengting, stop it. It’s totally not funny anymore.”

“I’m not _doing_ anything, Yanjun.” The taller boy whines as Yanjun gives him a glare. “Why are you even assuming it’s me?”

“Because you’ve been mad at me since last week.”

“No way.” Zhengting insists. “I stopped being mad after the tulips you gave me. They were lovely and quite possibly the sweetest thing you’ve ever done.”

The whole exchange makes an uncomfortable feeling arise in his stomach, and Zhangjing speeds away to head back to his dorm room, the sound of the two bickering in the distance, so quickly that he doesn’t notice the daisies beginning to wilt.

\---

“So, did you like him?”

“Did I like who?” Zhangjing absentmindedly looks up from his textbook that he has been trying to make sense of for the past half hour.

“Yanjun.” Chaoze hisses from across the table, decidedly not studying like they are supposed to be doing. “The other day, hello? I invited him along for a reason, I thought you two might actually get along really well. So? Did you like him?”

“I don’t know.” Zhangjing bites his lip, trying his best to comprehend the next question of his homework, the numbers not quite working out correctly to give him the rounded off answer he is expecting. “I met the guy, like, once. What do you want me to say?”

“I saw the way you wanted to kill me when you saw him.” Chaoze declares a bit too loudly, eliciting a shush from the students working at the next table over. “You definitely have at least a little bit of a crush on him.”

“So what if I do?” Zhangjing replies nervously. “It’s not like he really knows who I am. He probably just thinks it was nice meeting me once, and that’s _it_. Nothing else at all.”

“Don’t be a coward. You never know until you try.” Chaoze suggests, entirely unhelpfully in Zhangjing’s opinion.

“I don’t share any classes or activities with him. I won’t even bump into him again unless I get invited to one of your student council things anyway.” Zhangjing insists, not sure if he’s trying to convince Chaoze or himself, the image of the red-haired boy materializing in his head, the tiny seed of hope in his chest still.

“_Well_.” Chaoze grins at him wickedly. “We can solve that right now.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” And once again, Zhangjing finds himself being dragged unceremoniously by his best friend, the iron-clad grip on his wrist a familiar reminder. He lets himself be dragged along, not sure of where Chaoze is headed, and it is only when they are a few yards away that Zhangjing understands, and by then, it is far too late.

“Yaaaaaaanjun!” Chaoze waves excitedly at the boy that is manning the bake sale table, the snow having cleared up enough the last few days for them to move the tables outside, with Zhengting declaring in the group chat that the spot right in front of the dining hall is the perfect place.

The red-haired boy waves back upon seeing them, the dimples in his cheeks appearing so suddenly that Zhangjing is taken aback. He hasn’t seen Yanjun smile quite so widely before, and the sight makes his thoughts race, and all he wants to do is have his legs carry him far, far away but they traitorously follow Chaoze instead.

“Hey, Zhangjing.” He hates the disproportionate amount of joy he feels from the other boy actually remembering his name.

“So, _Yanjun_.” And Zhangjing swears that Chaoze looks like some sort of snake oil salesman with the way he tries to sidle up to the red-haired boy. “Do you happen to be dating someone? Because I have the _perfect_-“ Zhangjing can feel the flush starting to crawl up the back of his neck, and he’s two seconds away from pulling his best friend away from Yanjun before anything else is said. But before he can do much of anything, it starts again, the flowers that seem to follow the other boy around no matter where Yanjun goes, and everyone is turning to stare at them, though Yanjun appears completely unfazed as it continues, waiting patiently for Chaoze to finish his statement.

But Zhangjing can feel his embarrassment taking over, everyone looking and clearly able to eavesdrop on their conversation, and he takes the chance with Chaoze looking the other way to turn tail and run, trying to get away from the crowd that is forming, either because of the odd unnatural display of the life quirk without the student council president Zhengting in sight or perhaps the sweet aroma of cookies they had baked together.

The memory of baking with Yanjun only serves to make the tips of his ears burn more, and he is so absorbed in trying to clear his head of any thoughts of the red-haired boy, that he doesn’t hear the footsteps coming quickly up behind him. It’s Yanjun’s voice that he hears first, the clear sound of his name cutting through the still nippy morning air.

“Zhangjing! Wait up!”

He stops in his tracks and turns around, startled as he sees the handsome boy running to catch up to him. Yanjun is nine paces away. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. And it happens at four, the other boy being so close that Zhangjing can see the mole on the tip of Yanjun’s nose, the slight imperfection only making the other boy’s face even more attractive. And explosion of sorts, and there are suddenly flowers everywhere, growing at an alarming rate to fill the area surrounding the two of them. Reds of poppies. Orange daffodils. Yellow sunflowers. Blue hyacinths. Purples tulips. Every shade Zhangjing can possibly imagine, all coalescing to paint the two of them into the prettiest spring background.

Yanjun has stopped, just a pace away, glancing around them as it happens, the realization dawning on his face.

“You.”

Zhangjing pales, not understanding what Yanjun could be possibly accusing him of, too dumbfounded by the other boy’s proximity to keep up.

Yanjun breathes out a breath, forming a small puff of air, visible in the chilly weather. “You’re the one making all the flowers bloom around me, aren’t you?”

He shakes his head adamantly. “No, not possible. I don’t have a quirk.”

“You clearly do.”

Zhangjing nearly shrieks as the other boy grabs his hand, the action making vines sprout upwards from the ground, reaching to curl around their legs, meeting in the middle where their hands are intertwined.

“See?” Yanjun smiles proudly, clearly ecstatic about the revelation.

“Oh no.” The pit of worry tightens in his stomach, looking up at the other boy quickly before turning his gaze downwards to stare at his feet. “I’ve been the one troubling you by making all of this happen?” The thought makes him feel badly, remembering all the people that have been staring at Yanjun the past week or so. _This must have made him so uncomfortable._

“No, no. Don’t feel bad.” When he looks upwards again, Yanjun is smiling at him unabashedly, his dimples appearing again, small pools in his cheeks. “I actually have been enjoying the flowers. I just wanted to know who was doing it.” The red-haired boy lets out a laugh. “I’m actually relieved to find out it’s you and not Zhengting playing some elaborate, drawn-out prank on me.” A pause. “And besides, Chaoze told me that you like me? And might be interested in a date?”

The frank question makes Zhangjing go pink, and Yanjun laughs as another explosion of flowers occurs.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
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